


Word Of Mouth

by fantasticalbird



Series: Golden Tattoo [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Constantine (TV), Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy!Kink, Feminine Jason, Jason is wearing makeup, M/M, Undercover, he looks adorable, mentions of potential Daddy Issues, roleplay sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasticalbird/pseuds/fantasticalbird
Summary: It wasn’t often that Jason needed John’s help in his line of work. Shockingly, they managed to keep their business and pleasure pretty heavily divided outside of the usual nuanced knowledge they had of one another. To no one’s surprise, the cape community wasn’t very big on the influence or spectre of John Constantine, and for the most part, John didn’t mind.There were times, as this little trist carried on and developed, when it became harder and harder not to.





	Word Of Mouth

It wasn’t often that Jason needed John’s help in his line of work. Shockingly, they managed to keep their business and pleasure pretty heavily divided outside of the usual nuanced knowledge they had of one another. To no one’s surprise, the cape community wasn’t very big on the influence or spectre of John Constantine, and for the most part, John didn’t mind. 

There were times, as this little trist carried on and developed, when it became harder and harder not to. That John thought of death clawing Jason back on its own terms, through means that were menial and methodical. The pitfalls of his life, and destiny. Always soothed by a wisecrack and a lopsided grin on Jason’s face, the way he moved against John to prove to him that he was, most assuredly, still alive. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll haunt your ass I promise.” Jason reminds him, breathlessly against the shell of his ear. 

“Promises, promises.” 

Tonight though, their worlds mesh a bit, in a way neither of them is really ready for, in more ways than one. It’s one of Jason’s contracts, but its been slowly pulling John in with the tendrils of nefarious magic use. A club in Miami’s rainbow district that’s been pulling young lads in and chewing them out. Leaving their empty husks for police to find and tap away as an unfortunate circumstance beyond the cities control. 

The usual half baked investigative bullshit that has Jason chomping looking at drug rings, and John looking at the markings left on their bodies and thinking of magic, sacrifices and voodoo. It all reminds him a bit of Papa Midnite in ways that make him uneasy. Moreso when Jason lays out his gameplan. 

“So, you’re going to be bait.” John deadpans, blows a ring of cigarette smoke into Jason’s penthouse apartment. He’s making good use of that Bat money, and he’s grinning at John from underneath a silk robe. 

“It’s not the first time,” Jason says, like it should smooth away all of John’s fears and anxieties. He’s done this before, come out unscathed, he’ll do it again. “Besides, I’ll have you to look after me.” He pouts uncharacteristically, and John knows he’s already made his decision. He’s playing a role already, trying on different personas until he finds one that sticks just right. 

It shouldn’t turn John on this much, to have a long running roleplay like this. But, he’s already got his hands on Jason’s hips, is grinning a fool when Jason plucks his cigarette from his mouth and takes a long haul. He knows he’s fucked when Jason purrs “You can be my daddy.” 

That’s the cover they settle on. John’s in Miami doing whatever general bastardly thing John does. It allows for elbow room if the magic component is something already nipping on John’s raw heels. Jason is playing the role of a sought arrangement. Swooned by John’s accent, and wiley quips. Baby faced and hairless, big doe eyes and pouty lips. It’s one of the few times that Jason looks as young as he is, that makes John feel like a dirty old man for sleeping with him. There’s no acting for John in all this, he just has to look at Jason like he’s the most delicious thing in the world. 

It’s not hard to do when Jason walks out of the large bathroom, feet clicking on the tiled floor, deadened on the plush white carpet of their hotel room. John’s sitting on the bed, white oxford rolled up to reveal the tattoos on his forearms, tie and belt abandoned on the dresser. There’s a glass of scotch in his hand, and fruity sweet cocktail sitting waiting for Jason who’s still stretching into the role he’s made.   
It’s staggering, watching his transformation. The way killing muscle somehow turns lean, the way he cants his hips when he walks, slouches his shoulders, sharp eyes softening at the edges. Reminds John of the first time he met Jason, covered in glitter and desperate. He looks like something out of a porno, needy and nonplussed. 

“You’re a psychopath.” He tells John, gestures to himself. John picked out the clothes, added some authenticity to the role. It wasn’t often that he could indulge in himself, and Jason would let him. At least not without some teasing and a fair bit of stubborn rejection. Jason Peter Todd was independent, did what he wanted. The fact that he let John touch him was a testament to his own desires. 

Peter Fox was an entirely different bag of goodies. Black hair slicked back and ducktailed at the back, silver streak tugged back accentuated Jason’s angular face. Foundation covered silver scars, powder highlight accentuated plump cheeks, gloss and color on his lips made it impossible to stop staring. Then he blinked his bright blue eyes and John was drawn to his lashes, the outline of black, the myriad of colors on his lids. The whole thing was checking boxes that John didn’t even realize he had. Then his eyes were trailing down to his own handiwork. 

For the most part, Jason was shirtless. A cropped white top highlighted his collar bones, his broad chest, it tapered into long sleeves, hiding the scars on his arms. His chest was covered in glitter, gold and shimmering. The bottoms had been a bitch to find in a size Jason could get into. They were women’s black pvc pleather, stretching over the expanse of his legs, cut outs for black netting around his thighs, down his sides, exposing a bit of his ass, tapered down to his ankles and the pair of heeled combat boots. Jason adjusted himself. 

“I prefer creative.” John hummed, set his bourbon down next to Jason’s fruity drink. “That is quite the look on you love.” John felt a bit breathless, hot and bothered in a way he couldn’t remember feeling in years. That unfamiliar swoop in his stomach, nerves almost, at the sight in front of him. Jason prowled across the floor, hips swaying at the action. There was no hesitation, no pretense when Jason bracketted John’s thighs, settled his weight on his lap.

“Do you like it daddy?” John’s breath catches, and he pulls back, looks at Jason through his thick lashes. He’s committed to his role for the night, but there’s a hunger in his eyes that tells John he likes this, at least a little bit. 

“Yeah sweetheart, I do.” John kisses him, brings his hands up to play with Jason’s exposed chest. Grins when he hears a breathless gasp, and suddenly all he wants to do is get the bed sheets covered in glitter and smear his lipstick all across his pretty face. He runs his hands down Jason’s exposed back, lets them dip into his pants. He slips a hand between Jason’s cheeks, is biting a trail down his neck when his fingers slide easily inside him. 

“Did I do good?” He asks through a moan and John bites his neck hard enough he thinks he might draw blood, knows there’ll be a purple bruise. “Am I a good boy?” 

“Fuck,” John curses, pulls his fingers out of Jason and shifts them on the bed. “I don’t know, are you?” They haven’t played like this often, this pent up heat between them. Usually they fuck hard and fast, Jason riding John until he sees stars, and can barely keep his head on straight. This is a powerplay they aren’t familiar with, and John watches for all of Jason’s subtle changes. 

“How can I show you?” Jason’s voice is already wrecked, pitchy and needy. John grabs his belt off of the bedside table. 

“Hands together” He tells Jason, his voice firm. It’s intoxicating, having Jason bend to him like this, so uncharacteristic. Jason does as he’s told, brings his wrists together and lets John wrap the belt around them. Nothing too tight, loose and easy to get out of. It’s a sentiment of trust on both sides. John really has no interested in holding Jason down, and Jason can call of the charade when he wants. 

Instead, he moans when John makes a show of tugging the leather tight. Bites down on a glossy lip, watches John through thick fake lashes. “On your belly, let me have a look at ya.” Jason makes a show of rolling over, wrapped hands out in front of him, arches his back and looks behind himself at John. He gives Jason’s as a slap and a squeeze for good measure. 

Takes in the way the mesh stretches over Jason’s thighs, shifts under strong muscles, stretches across tanned skin. Then he’s peeling them down, bites Jason’s ass as black pvc moves to expose tanned skin. “Do this all for me?” John asks, runs a thumb between his cheeks, presses against his hole with just the faintest bit of pressure. Jason groans and bites his arm. 

“Wanted to be ready for you.” He breathes against his arm, looks back at John and leans back, forcing his fingers inside. “Knew you’d like what you see, wanted you to fuck me.” John adds a second finger, mesmerized by the way it just slides into Jason. He must have been fucking himself for a while, hidden in the bathroom. The thought makes John growl. “Didn’t want to wait.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a brat?” John asks, bites down on the globe of Jason’s ass for good measure. 

“I’ve heard it befo- oh.” Jason’s words get lost in his throat when John’s tongue slides in next to his fingers. His fingers grab the sheet in front of him, twist as John scissors into him, tongue sliding along his fingers as they work. As he twists them just so and grins when Jason lets out a string of curses. 

“Well, best not disappoint then.” John pulls his fingers out, moves back and undoes his pants. “You want me to fuck you?” Jason nods and wriggles, pushes back. “Ask me.” John knows he’s pushing, know’s that Jason wouldn’t normally do this. The most asking he’s done during sex is asking John to pound him harder before just taking matters into his own hands and doing most of the work himself. Impatient brat. 

“Please, fuck me.” Jason’s needy voice permeates the air, no hesitation. “Please daddy, fuck me, tell me I’m good.” It’s all John needs to hear, those pretty little words falling from that pretty mouth. He’s got his pants undone, cock in his hand and is lining up as Jason keeps talking. Spilling out a litany of requests, begging with a whine. 

John pushes in with one snap of his hips, slow and deliberate as he sinks into the white heat of Jason, lets out a curse with his hands on his hips. “You’re so good, such a good boy for me.” John doesn’t stop to think that maybe this is going too far. That this is pushing down walls that Jason didn’t mean to expose, that maybe this little kink is something a bit more.

He always was a bastard, and he can’t bring himself to care when he slides out of Jason easily, and pushes back in like nothing. “You’re gonna be the death of me love.” John groans and pushes in again, hands sliding down Jason’s back, down his shoulders. Fingers find their way to Jason’s mouth, fingers slip past stained lips and press against his tongue. 

John fucks into Jason fast and hard, the way he likes it. He moans, and pushes back against him. Always trying to race his way to climax, like its about getting there the fastest. John grabs a hold of Jason’s neck, pulls him up so his chest is flush with his back. Fingers still curled into his mouth as he fucks into him. John wraps his other hand around Jason’s neglected and hard cock. Thumb spreading precum over the head before he starts jacking him in time with his thrusts. 

“ Such a good boy.” John breathes against his neck. “My good boy.” The words come out with a claim to ownership he’s not expecting, but settles good and solid in his chest when he lets his teeth dig into the silver scar on his neck. 

“Fucking shit, daddy.” Jason’s coming, John not far behind him. He paints the sheets, John’s hands with his come and then John is biting down on his shoulder and spilling inside of Jason with a curse. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, before John pulls out. Ignores the desire to plug Jason back up again. Instead, he drops to the bed beside him, helps him get out of his makeshift handcuffs, even though he knew Jason could do it himself. Jason’s still breathing heavy, gold glittering chest heaving and catching the light. He looks like a work of art like that. John wishes he could take a picture. Jason’s lipstick is smudged across his cheek, lips spit slick. 

“Told you,” He starts, pushes the soiled blankets away from himself and stretches like a cat on the bed. Pants still down his thighs, wrists red. “This cover would work.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not used to writing something so explicit, so I apologize if this isn't anyone's cup of tea. If I missed any tags, please let me know. Uh, out of order from the other works in this series, I'll just post them as it hits me. No betaing - we die like mne.


End file.
